Sherlock headcanon ficlets
by Soft-falling-Raindrops
Summary: <html><head></head>These are a collection of Sherlock ficlets, inspired by head canons. Sorry, but I don't do Johnlock :P I don't own BBC Sherlock Read and Review! Rating may be subject to change in the future.</html>
1. Chapter 1

**Heya guys! Soft here. THis is just a bunch of little ficlets (I hope) about Sherlock head canons. Please R&R! :)**

_Headcanon #1: Sherlock is deathly afraid of spiders._

Soft footsteps sounded down the hall, and a door could be heard creaking slightly as light spilled across Mycroft's quilt cover.

"Mycroft?"

A small figure clutching a pillow to its side materialized in the door way, and the older Holmes brother blinked sleepily, putting one hand to his eyes in order to block out the light streaming in.

"What is it, Sherlock? It's almost two in the morning," he whispered harshly, and Sherlock shifted on the cold floor nervously, his bottom lip trembling faintly.

"I'm scared…" Closing his eyes and sighing faintly, Mycroft pulled the blankets off and sat up, walking over to Sherlock.

"What's the matter?" Fidgeting with the pillow, Sherlock whispered quietly and Mycroft had to bend over to catch the mumbling.

"There's a spider in my room, and it won't go away…"

"A spider. Really? You woke me up, for a spider? You couldn't have gone to mummy?" Sherlock looked up at Mycroft with sad eyes and Mycroft pinched the bridge of his nose, straightening up.

"Fine. Fine. I'll get it. Go to your room, I'll be there in a second." Sherlock nodded and quietly headed to his room, as Mycroft rubbed at his eyes again and grabbed his housecoat, following him.

"Alright, where is it?" Sherlock was huddled under his blanket covers and pointed up at the roof, where a smallish dark brown spider was busily making its web in the far right corner. Reaching up, Mycroft gently plucked it off the roof and held it in his palm, studying it curiously.

"Look at it Sherlock, it's not going to do you any harm." Mycroft whispered loudly, as he dangled the poor creature in front of his brother's face. Sherlock let out a shriek and hit Mycroft's hand, flinging the spider out of his cupped palm and onto Sherlock's covers.

"Get it!" Sherlock screeched, as he jumped up on his desk and stood there, shaking like a leaf.

"Shhh! don't wake mummy and daddy!" Mycroft hissed, as he clambered over Sherlock's bed and snagged the spider, placing it on the outside window sill.

"Happy?" Sherlock nodded faintly, and Mycroft swore he could hear him whimpering under his breath. As he left the room, Sherlock jumped off the bed and ran towards him, the pillow still clutched under his arm.

"Mikey, can I sleep with you?" Stopping in the hallway Mycroft closed his eyes, sighing faintly under his breath.

"Yes. But you mustn't tell mummy about the candy stash under the bed, or I'm filling your room with spiders tomorrow night." Sherlock only nodded as he followed Mycroft down the hall, running and leaping onto his bed.

"Night, Mikey." Sherlock mumbled, as Mycroft slipped under the covers next to him.

"Good night, Sherlock."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey again guys! ^-^ Next chapter! For you that may be wondering: This will be updated on a 'When I feel like it' basis. I don't have the world's best attention span when it comes to writing, no matter how much I love it. Sorry for any grammar mistakes! Please remember to Read and Review!**

**~Soft-falling-Raindrops**

_2. When Sherlock is talking or thinking about his deductions, he loses all awareness of the outside world. John had lost count how many times he's laughed at Sherlock for walking straight into a lamp-post while he talks._****

"So you do see John, that it couldn't have been the baker? The flour stains are a different brand than what he uses."

John listened bemusedly as Sherlock talked, waving his hands around expressively as he explained the case.

"Besides the sleeves were rolled up on the victim, and that ties in with the oil stains on the pants." John could still hear Sherlock rambling on to himself as he walked on ahead, completely oblivious to the world around him.

"And like his wife said, she hadn't been near any of the knives. But, she forgot to check her scene for the fingerprints she left behind, and-"

John had to stifle laughter as Sherlock walked straight into the street lamp, falling backwards with a startled expression on his face.

"God Sherlock, you okay?"

Sherlock nodded stiffly as he got up, his cheeks flushed a light shade of red as he noticed the people stifling laughter.

"Yes, I'm fine." He said, clearing his throat as he straightened his scarf. John was silent for a moment, and then chuckling slightly he asked "How many times now? I've lost count."

"Twenty-four."


End file.
